Moondance
by EbonyBeach
Summary: "The best man and the maid of honor. It's tradition, isn't it?" Inspired by the prompt: English summer. Now continued.
1. Moondance

**Moondance**  
 _ **(Lyrics by Van Morrison)**_

"Well, we did it."

Fitz's voice breaks through Olivia's reverie. She turns to him with an easy smile as he slides into the chair beside her at the top table, its surface strewn with empty wine glasses and wedding confetti. Like most of the tables in the marquee, it's deserted now that the dancing is in full swing on the floor in front if them.

"What do you mean, we did it?" She has to lean close to speak to him, to be heard over the DJ. She can feel the heat of his body radiating across the space between them; smell his familiar scent, like summer and fresh water and just a hint of something else, something exclusively Fitz.

"We got them here," he explains, his arm casually coming to rest on the back of her chair as he gestures to the bride and groom with his other hand. "We got them hitched without incident."

"We sure did. Although I think they did most of it themselves, really. I just carried her train, held her flowers."

"Liv, come on. You stood beside your best friend on the most important day of her life. You were almost the perfect maid of honor."

 _"Almost?"_

She looks at him, eyebrows raised, mouth agape. He mimics her expression, his blue eyes bright with amusement even in the fading evening light.

"Explain yourself mister," she demands, playfully exasperated. "It's late enough now that no one would notice if the best man suddenly went missing... I could kill you, throw your body in the lake and be out of here before anyone suspected a thing."

"You couldn't throw me in the lake."

Surprised, Olivia laughs out loud. " _That's_ the part of my plan you have issue with? Not the bit where I kill you?"

He shrugs, smiling that charming smile of his. "I'm not worried. I could take you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're tiny. Look at you."

His gaze sweeps briefly over her body, clad in her dove grey bridesmaid dress, but she notices that he lingers just a second too long on her chest. It makes her skin flood with heat. Fitz doesn't seem to realize he's even done it.

"I'm a black belt in-"

"Taekwando, yeah, I know. But I could still take you."

He's still looking at her, his handsome face full of warmth, affection. Is it just the romance of the day, of watching their best friends get married in this fairytale castle in the English countryside, that is tinting Olivia's vision as pink as the roses in her bouquet? She loves Fitz in so many ways: through their relationships with Kate and Ben, the bride and groom, they've become close friends themselves. People are forever telling them how alike they are; she knows Kate initially hoped they would date, but somehow they never have.

Certainly, she's attracted to him. He's gorgeous. On paper, he should be perfect for her. She's been out with other guys, had several short relationships over the past few years, but they've always ended and secretly, she's always known why: because Fitz is her benchmark. He's so kind, so funny, so caring. If a guy falls short in any area she knows Fitz would excel in, she ends it straight away. How can she settle for less when she knows there are men out there who have it all? (One man, specifically.)

They've kissed once, although she's never told anyone and she doesn't think Fitz even remembers. It was earlier this year at Coachella, with Ben and Kate and far _far_ too much alcohol. Their friends had already retired for the night but she and Fitz were still going, raving to some experimental bass in the dark. It was frenetic, lightning quick; their bodies moved as one, a single cell in a huge living organism, surging together, made alive by the music which vibrated in their bones.

And then suddenly - quiet. The volume dropped right off; there was beautiful synth, layer upon layer of sound, and a slow beat completely juxtaposed to the previous rhythm. She turned to Fitz, whose arms were already around her hot, sweaty body, and with the way he was looking at her it seemed completely the right thing to do to kiss him.

And god, could he kiss.

They made out as the bass kicked in again and gradually started to crescendo, the crowd breathing it in, swelling, pushing against them from all sides. Olivia felt the same: like she was expanding; filling up with lust, desire, liquid gold. Even now, four months later, she can recreate the moment perfectly in her mind: Fitz's taste, the hardness of his body, the way he absolutely dominated her mouth. She remembers the feeling of total surrender, of how she would never have stopped if they hadn't been forced to by the sheer physicality of the people around them.

They danced awhile longer, more handsy than they'd ever been before, until exhaustion hit and she just had to get out of there. They held hands on the way back to their tent; just outside, Fitz pulled her into a hug and squeezed her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. They swayed slightly together, both drunk, but she felt significantly sobered by the events of the last half hour. When she excused herself to use the bathroom, to brush her teeth, he kissed her: just once, softly. His smile lit up her heart. But there was a huge queue for the ladies' and when she eventually got back, he was already passed out on his airbed.

The next morning, things were completely normal between them. He gave absolutely no indication that he remembered what had happened, and she's never found the courage to mention it again.

"You okay?" Fitz is asking now, drawing her back to the present. She flushes, hoping he can't tell. "Come on, let's go for a walk. It's too hot in here and Kate's Great Aunt Dorothy keeps eyeing me up."

She laughs and lets him take her hand, trying not to react to the touch of his warm skin on hers. _Get a grip, Olivia!_ _This is Fitz, at your best friend's wedding._ Nothing _can happen._

He stops by the bar on their way past, ordering her a glass of Rioja (he knows her so well) and a beer for himself. When they step out of the marquee onto the vast, sweeping lawns of the castle, Olivia is surprised to realize it's lighter out here than inside. It must be almost ten PM but the sky is still a pale blue-purple color, layered with strips of white cloud which seem to disappear into infinity.

Wordlessly, they begin to walk around the marquee towards the gardens. Fitz puts his arm around her shoulders and she holds onto his waist with her free hand, leaning into him. His proximity both excites and soothes her, and she doesn't have the capacity to work out exactly what that means right now.

"Such a beautiful night," she says as the moon comes into view from behind one of the building's turrets, a majestic crescent.

"It sure is."

They wander through the rose gardens, perfectly preened and sweet-smelling on this warm summer's evening. Insects chirrup in the undergrowth, adding to the music from the party. As time passes, Fitz draws her even closer and she realizes that he's tense; with her head near his chest, she can sense that his heart is racing.

"Everything okay?" she asks, peering up at him. When did the blue of his eyes become her favorite color?

He looks at her for a long moment and, for the first time ever, she can't tell what he's thinking. Eventually, he manages a small smile and takes her glass from her, placing it on the ground with his.

"I love this song. Will you dance with me, Olivia?"

 _It's a marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes._

He holds her against him, his palm on the small of her back, cradling her other hand in his. For a while he simply gazes at her as they move in slow circles and she feels her own heart start to flutter frantically against her ribs, because she's seen this look on his face once before and they were dancing then, too...

"What did you mean earlier," she says softly, trying to ignore the wild butterflies in her stomach, "When you said I was _almost_ the perfect maid of honor?"

That's it: the moment she confesses; the moment he knows she feels it too. It's the vulnerability in her voice; how she lets go of every barrier, every fear, leaving herself completely bare before him.

It makes the air shift around them; become hotter, thicker. Expectant. She thinks he really is the most beautiful man she's ever known.

"Oh, Livvie," he sighs, and he's the only person who's ever called her that. She wants to hear it every day, from him, for the rest of her life. "The bridesmaids are never supposed to outshine the bride. But you... I couldn't keep my eyes off you. You looked absolutely stunning. You _are_ absolutely stunning. You always are."

His words steal her breath away, so much so that when she tries to say his name, it's barely a whisper.

"I haven't forgotten," he continues, his voice low. She can feel it in his body, they're pressed so close together. "Coachella. When you kissed me."

Her eyes widen. She'd convinced herself that he had, because it was better than thinking he'd remembered and regretted it.

"I know you remember it too," he says before she can think of a way to reply. "I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Have you?"

Her gaze falls to his lips. How much time has she spent with him over the last few months, having coffee or dinner with friends, or jogging together, or watching movies in her apartment, and thought about kissing him again? Too much to count.

"No," she admits, her voice shaking. "No, I haven't."

She's very vaguely aware of the music, of how utterly romantic it is, and yet it pales in comparison to the way Fitz is making her feel right now. She's falling in love with him, _right now._

"Olivia."

He's leaning down, his nose almost touching hers. Every fiber of her being wants him to kiss her - no, _needs_ him to... except for one.

"It's Ben and Kate's wedding," she breathes, willing herself to retain some semblance of control, of decency. "We can't do this, not now. Not here."

"Why not? The best man and the maid of honor. It's tradition, isn't it?" He's smiling, joking. It makes her smile too. Everything about him fills her with joy, all the time. "Actually, I have their permission."

She's taken aback by that. "What?"

Is this just a set up?

"I didn't mean it like that," he says quickly, seeing her reaction. "Ben has been encouraging me to ask you out for months now. I think he sensed something might happen today. Weddings are so romantic, aren't they? They stir so many feelings. This morning, when we were getting ready, he told me he and Kate had discussed it, and they'd be over the moon if we got together tonight."

She tries to process all that information. "So we're here because Ben suggested it?"

But Fitz shakes his head, his serious gaze never leaving hers. "We're here because I've been falling for you for three years, Olivia." His voice is soft; it cradles her soul. "We're here because I couldn't keep it to myself a minute longer. We're here because we're meant to be."

Her throat constricts with emotion, with _love_ , and she thinks she might cry. Is this a dream? She's imagined this moment a thousand times and now it's real, and it's everything, and it's just _perfect_.

He slowly closes the gap between them, his blue eyes full of desire and fixed on hers until the very last moment, when darkness takes over and he presses his lips to hers.

 _Home._

That's how it feels. Like it's always been there, waiting for her. And it has; _he_ has.

They kiss for an eternity, tender and slow at first, then deeper and more desperately. Olivia has never been so turned on before in her entire life. She's on fire, melting in his arms.

When he finally lets her go, they're both struggling to breathe.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "You are so beautiful, Livvie."

"Is it too soon for you to take me to bed?" she asks, covering his hand with hers. She doesn't care how that sounds. They've waited long enough.

Fitz smiles; kisses her again. It's the most magical feeling in the world.

"It's not too soon at all," he says, pressing her firmly into his body, making her shiver from head to toe. "In fact, it's long overdue."

 _On a magic night;  
Can I just have one more moondance with you,  
My love?_


	2. The Best Is Yet To Come

A/N: because you all asked so nicely.

* * *

 **The Best Is Yet To Come**

 _ **The Hamptons, 2 years later.**_

"Olivia Pope, get away from that window! You're not supposed to see the groom before the wedding!"

"But I like watching him," Olivia sighs happily as Kate comes over and tries to physically turn her around. She resists, her gaze fixed on the incredible man in the backyard who, in roughly three hours' time, will finally become her husband. "He's so cute. Look at him."

"I know what he looks like," Kate says, her English accent conveying both affection and mild exasperation. "And I know it's your wedding day, but you are _seriously_ soppy today."

"More so than usual?" Olivia asks, teasing.

"Yes. I didn't think that was possible, but yes."

She laughs, watching as Fitz, the love of her life, the only man she would ever be called 'soppy' over, helps with preparations for their ceremony. He's dressed casually and carrying Kate and Ben's fifteen-month-old son Oscar, a gorgeous little boy with rosy cheeks and a shock of blond hair just like his mother's. Every time she sees Fitz with him, she gets this warm feeling deep in her belly which she suspects might actually be her ovaries tingling. She'd never seriously considered having a baby until Oscar was born, but they are both absolutely smitten with him. Kate is constantly asking whether they're going to try and conceive on their honeymoon, as she and Ben did; Olivia won't tell her one way or another, but she and Fitz have discussed it... and she had her contraceptive implant removed a week ago.

Just one more reason she is overwhelmingly excited to marry her man today.

It's two years and one month since they got together at their best friends' wedding, that glorious night in England; one year exactly since Fitz proposed in Tuscany, on a hillside overlooking the wine country after a beautiful picnic. He'd planned it to perfection: she had absolutely no idea it was coming. Even now, when she thinks about the moment she turned and saw him down on one knee, her diamond ring sparkling in the summer sun, that feeling of surprise is still palpable; it still catches her breath, makes her heart race.

She said yes without hesitation. Despite her shock, there was no other possible response. They're like that, she and Fitz: they move at a million miles an hour. They've been inseparable since the moment he kissed her in the rose garden beside the castle. He took her back to her room at the quaint bed and breakfast in the local village, with its floral curtains and claw-footed bathtub and little china urns of potpourri on every available surface, and he stayed there with her until their taxi to Heathrow airport arrived two days later.

That bed squeaked so much it was almost a disaster: she just couldn't stop laughing, lying beneath him, naked and ready and about to experience pleasure unlike anything she'd ever known before. But it was _funny_ , not just because of the bed but because it was Fitz; Fitz and her, best friends, just moments away from having sex. What a strange world, where this man, whom she'd gotten drunk with so many times, moaned about other guys to, picked up from girls' apartments after he broke up with them, was now the very same man she was wrapped around, bare, exposed... about to become irreversibly intimate with. This man, whose laundry she'd done for three months once when his washing machine broke and he didn't bother getting it fixed; who she'd cuddled all night on her couch when one of his college friends had died unexpectedly and she was the very first person he called; who had seen her at her worst, and at her best, and everything in between.

It was just bizarre. She couldn't get her mind around it.

Until Fitz, who'd been lying there above her, staring at her in total bemusement, told her she was weird (literally; he'd said: "You are so weird" in a way which implied he actually found it thoroughly endearing) and then ducked his head, closing his warm, wet mouth around her left nipple. Her laughter stopped immediately; it was replaced by the kind of moan which seemed to emanate from the very depths of her.

Of _course_ this made sense. How could something this good be anything but right? And then he carried on with his kisses, with his clever fingers and his sweet, sexy words, and she forgot all about the squeaky bed and their past and all the reasons this might be strange. She let him love her, over and over, until any concept of sex she'd ever known had been completely redefined; until she thought her body might never recover from the sheer force of the orgasms he'd so effortlessly coaxed from her. Sometime later, in the small hours of the morning, they lay facing one another on the sheets with the window open to let in the cool breeze and Olivia knew without a doubt that he was The One. It was more than their unbelievable chemistry and the look in his eyes, like she was the most precious thing in the whole world and he couldn't believe his luck (which is still how he looks at her, to this day). It was the sense that a huge hole in her life had been filled; a hole she didn't even know was there. It was a feeling of completeness unlike anything she'd ever expected. It was gazing at his beautiful face and, at the same time, seeing her future laid out in front of her so clearly, she knew they had already set it in stone.

She would marry this man. She would grow old with him, die by his side. There was no other way.

When they returned to New York, they went straight to his apartment and she had never left. She told her roommate she was leaving within a week; cleared out her stuff with Fitz's help in the space of two days. From the very beginning, they were the couple everyone hated to love: sickeningly cute, always touching, kissing, making secret jokes and laughing to themselves in the corner of the room, completely oblivious to the conversation going on around them. At twenty-nine, Olivia had never thought she would be in this kind of infatuated, teenage relationship again: utterly consumed by a guy, daydreaming about him all day at work, sneaking away from dinners and parties to make out against a restaurant wall or have sex in his car. At thirty-two, she knows Fitz didn't anticipate it either - but they just couldn't help themselves.

They didn't _want_ to.

He told her he loved her about three months in, when they were washing the dishes one night after dinner and laughing hysterically about something or other, so much so she was bent forwards, forearms resting on the edge of the sink, trying to catch her breath.

"God, I love you," he'd sighed, and she barely heard him the first time; she certainly didn't recognize the significance of the moment. When she'd recovered from her giggles enough to stand up straight again, she still remembers how serious he looked, and how taken aback she was by that. Then his words finally began to register in her brain; at the same time, he slid his arms around her waist and drew her against him.

"I love you. I love you so much, Livvie."

She was so surprised she didn't say anything; clearly charmed by this, and very pleased with himself for rendering her speechless, he kissed her with smiling lips, over and over, until suddenly it all hit her at once and she threw her soapy hands around his neck and poured every ounce of love and passion she possessed into their embrace.

"I love you too," she'd whispered between ferocious kisses as he lifted her onto the countertop, already pulling impatiently at her clothes. This was what always happened between them: they just ignited. Spontaneous sexual combustion.

He'd laid her on the kitchen table; eaten her for dessert. Afterwards, still trembling, she rode him on the sofa in the adjoining living room and she came again because he was kissing her and playing with her breasts and because she really, really fucking loved him. That was the first time she'd ever cried after sex - and it wasn't the last. Sometimes, her feelings for him just overwhelm her. And, true to form, Fitz always looks amused and calls her weird, but he kisses her extra tenderly and holds her for even longer than usual, wrapping her up in his love.

They've said those three little words every single day since then - multiple times. Fitz wakes her each morning with a cuddle and a variation of the same greeting: "Good morning, baby. I love you." They text it when they've been apart five minutes; she writes it on notes which she leaves in his suit pockets, in his car, on his laptop screen, alongside little drawings and hearts and smiley faces. He buys her flowers approximately once a week, always with a handwritten card telling her that he's in love with her, that he always will be; she keeps them all in her beside drawer, which is almost full to bursting.

And now here they are, about to become husband and wife, to tie themselves together forever and ever. She's so excited she can't sit still, even when the stylist arrives to do her and Kate's hair and makeup. They're holding the ceremony and reception in Fitz's father's vacation home in Water Mill: just the two of them, Ben and Kate by their sides, her dad walking her down the aisle, Fitz's dad reading one of their favorite poems, and thirty other friends and family. It's not the huge church wedding she'd fantasized about as a child - it's even better. Small, intimate; a celebration of their love with the people they really care about, who really care about them.

She doesn't peek out of the window again; she doesn't want to see Fitz all dressed up in his finery until the same moment he sees her. And in her stunning white dress, simply cut, hugging her figure in all the right places, she knows she won't be disappointed by his reaction. To be honest, she could wear jeans and a t-shirt and he'd still think she looked sensational. He just loves her so much.

Even thinking that is threatening to make her cry. How is she going to get through the day without breaking down?

…She doesn't.

The moment their eyes meet, from opposite ends of the short aisle, she's in tears. He is, too. He looks so handsome in his navy suit and crisp white shirt, open at the collar, perfectly befitting their relaxed summer wedding; she wants to run straight into his arms and never let go. They really have made it here: they are actually getting married. She's so happy she thinks her heart might burst.

When she reaches him, when her dad kisses her forehead and gives her hand to Fitz, he wipes her cheeks with his thumbs and gazes so deeply into her eyes she knows he can see all the way inside her.

"Hi," he smiles. _I'm yours, at last._

"Hi," she whispers in return. _Always._

The day flies by after their vows, their first kiss (and their second, and third; Fitz wouldn't let her go). The sun shines all afternoon; the hundreds of white flowers adorning the chairs, tables, archways and the side of the house fill the warm air with such a wonderful, sweet smell. Olivia feels like she's floating, drinking Champagne and laughing with her friends, all the while with her husband's hand in hers, or his arm around her waist, or his eyes on her from across the yard in the rare minutes they're separated. Seeing the platinum band on his finger does strange things to her: fills her with such raw, uncontainable emotion she has to glance away, to hide her tears; at the same time, he looks so sexy wearing it that she wants to drag him upstairs to bed and devour him, wedding guests be damned.

The speeches come as the sun is setting, throwing rays of orange, pink and gold into the sky. Her dad's first: sweet, funny, eloquent. A toast, a tight hug, and then it's Fitz's turn… And to say he blows everyone away is an understatement of the most enormous proportions, equivalent to remarking that she 'quite likes' him or that their day so far has been 'not bad, thank you very much'.

"Now, this may come as a surprise to some of you," he says after first thanking everyone for coming, and for their help with preparations, "But working in corporate management isn't actually where my passion lies. Sorry Dad." Cue laughter, including from Fitz's father himself who employs his son in his company. "I studied photography at university; I worked professionally for two years, with some success, but it isn't an easy way to make a living. And I just can't survive without Italian coffee, English tailored suits, money to spend on my gorgeous wife... you know. The list goes on." More laughter.

"I've always kept up with photography as a hobby though, and I have a slideshow I'd like to share with you. With you," he says specifically to Olivia, smiling down at her. He briefly traces her jaw with his fingertip; lifts her chin, leans down to kiss her. It's one of those moments he just can't help himself, she knows.

Ben has been moving in the periphery of the yard, setting up a projector and portable screen. Now everyone turns in their seats as the soft piano of Ludovico Einaudi, Olivia's favorite composer, begins to play. The first picture displayed is a portrait of her, with the biggest smile on her face as she holds her brand-new engagement ring up to the camera. It's Fitz's favorite shot and she can see why: she is just radiant. Joyful. Beautiful.

"Olivia and I have known each other for five years," he continues to his audience, "But we've only been together two of those. I think these photographs, taken over that whole period of time, tell their own story. If I'd looked back through them sooner, I'd have realized what was right in front of me all along."

Olivia knows only a little about photography but, as the show commences and Fitz takes his seat beside her once again, it's obvious that these pictures are exceptional. The focus, the lighting, the ease of his subjects; mainly in color, but some gorgeous black and white images too. And he's right: it's a love story, as clear as day. In every shot, she is the star. Fitz has captured her at her best in _every_ _single frame_. That's more than his skill alone: even before they were together, he was falling for her. And he's told her that before, of course, but here's the proof. She can see their entire relationship through his lens, through his eyes.

And it's… indescribable. She's crying from the very start, as soon as she realizes what's happening; by the end, she's trying so hard not to openly sob that she's hiccoughing and Kate is hurriedly passing her tissues from her purse, wiping her own eyes. In fact, the whole wedding party is in tears.

It starts out straight forwardly enough. The day they met: a boat trip with Ben and Kate who were newly dating, on a windy morning in September; Olivia and Kate laughing as they struggled to pull locks of hair from their mouths and eyes, their jackets plastered to their bodies. Looking at it, she can still taste the salt, feel the cold sea spray on her skin; see Fitz, this handsome stranger who seemed to never stop asking her questions, snapping photographs of them, of the other passengers, of the boat and the ocean and the sky and everything in between. One of the things she loves most about him is how passionate he is: he wants to capture every moment, to relive each one over again because experiencing a good thing once just isn't enough for him. He has such a zest for life, it's made her live hers so much more fully - and she won't ever be able to thank him enough for that.

The next photos cover the three years before they started dating: there are lots of group shots, mainly candid and relaxed (Fitz's preferred style); some of Olivia alone, engaged in conversation with a friend at dinner, skating past him at the Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve, lying upside down on his couch with her long hair touching the floor. She always knew he was taking these photos - his cameras are a part of him, something she and his friends no longer question - but most of them she's never seen before. She knows he's talented, has looked at some of his commissioned work and the awards he has in his study, but he's always very modest and she's beginning to realize that he shouldn't be. His work is truly stunning.

The show continues, through summer beach trips and long weekends on the West Coast, drinking hot chocolate on snowy evenings and dancing at Coachella, as wild and free as a bird. And then their relationship begins and the images are mainly of her alone now, or of the two of them: reading the newspaper in bed on a Sunday morning, light streaming in through the open windows; their joined hands on a background of some concrete sidewalk, somewhere in the city; sharing a moped in Italy, Fitz reluctantly taking a selfie and being pleasantly surprised with the result - him looking directly into the lens with a grin on his face while Olivia is laughing behind him, slightly blurry, gazing away to the right. There's her with baby Oscar, just hours old, and she can recall that moment so perfectly: that fall, heart first, into love. Skiing in Canada, adorable in her knit hat and sunglasses; yoga on the living room floor; hiking, shopping, writing; doing nothing in particular except smiling at him.

The last photograph is of the two of them on Ben and Kate's wedding day. The official photographer spotted them in the rose garden just as she was leaving: dancing by moonlight, gazing into each other's eyes - the moment of truth, of confession, of declaration. Even from far away it's easy to see: they are two people in love; two people who are meant to be.

"I love you," she breathes, stunned, turning to him as the guests start to applaud; kissing his mouth and his jaw and his neck, hugging him with all the strength in her body. "I love you so much. More than anything."

Fitz holds her as the cheers continue and she feels so safe in his arms, protected from the whole world. "I love you too," he murmurs in return, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "More than anything."

He releases her after a minute, smiling at her and wiping her cheeks (again) with his fingers before standing up. She finds his hand and interlaces their fingers, unwilling to be parted from him even for a moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses in a toast. To this astounding woman, who has been my muse from the very first day we met; who is at the center of every photograph I take, everything I do, and always will be. To this beautiful girl who I have loved for so long, I once failed to get my washing machine repaired for two months just so I had an excuse to visit her with my laundry every week."

"Three months," she corrects, to much laughter - but she barely notices because he's never told her before that it was deliberate and it's making her eyes sting, her throat constrict. Could she love him any more than this? Whenever she thinks she's reached her maximum capacity, he says something like that and her heart expands even further.

"Three months," he acknowledges with a grin. "To my smart, funny, fearless wife, who is always right."

The audience laughs again before he continues, serious once more: "You inspire me every single day, Livvie, and if I can make you even half as happy as you make me, I think I'll be doing a pretty good job. Thank you for giving me everything I've ever wanted. I love you today and always.

"To Mrs Grant."

"Mrs Grant!"

His kiss seems to last forever, and not long enough. Afterwards, time speeds up: Ben's speech, the three-course meal, cutting the cake; tables and chairs being cleared away to reveal the dance floor beneath hanging vines and a deepening blue, star-speckled sky. The stage at the far end of the yard is lit with thousands of fairy string lights, the band setting up there while Olivia and Fitz cuddle Oscar, gazing at each other over his head and hoping they are lucky enough to have their own baby one day soon.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ben says into the microphone a short while later, "Please welcome the bride and groom onto the floor for their first dance as husband and wife."

Kate takes her son from Olivia, giving her friend a quick hug. "All ready," she says quietly into Olivia's ear.

Her surprise for Fitz.

She thanks her maid of honor, feeling her pulse start to race. She's been planning this for almost a year; can't believe she's about to pull it off.

Fitz takes her into his arms, encircled by their loved ones, as the unmistakable first bars of Van Morrison's _Moondance_ start up: double bass, drums, piano. The intro runs for longer than usual and Olivia makes sure he's facing the house, his back to the stage, as the crowd suddenly starts to cheer; fortunately, he's looking at her so intently he doesn't seem to realize.

"This song," he sighs, lovingly touching the tip of his nose to hers. "It takes me so vividly back to England. We could be there right now, couldn't we?"

"We could," she confirms softly. "The best night."

"Until this one."

"Until this one."

They share a smile, a kiss. Then the verse begins, and she sees Fitz's eyebrows rise almost immediately.

" _Well it's a marvelous night for a moondance…"_

"Wow, this guy," he exclaims, turning to look at the band. "He sounds _exactly_ like-"

And then comes the moment she's been waiting for, all this time: the moment he realizes who is singing their song, on their wedding day.

"Is that-?"

He's gazing between her and Van Morrison himself, who smiles at them as he continues to croon: _"A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of…"_

"How did you-?"

Olivia laughs, pressing her mouth to his. "I'll tell you later. Dance with me, husband."

She doesn't think she's ever seen him so happy before. When the song finishes, the way he kisses her, tilting her backwards over his arm like at the end of an old-fashioned movie, leaves her breathless. Then he's pulling her over to the stage, shaking hands with the Irishman, completely star-struck.

"We'll chat later," Van Morrison says over the opening bars of _Brown Eyed Girl._ "Take your beautiful wife back onto that dance floor. That's an order."

He plays for almost an hour, all of their favorite songs. _Into The Mystic_ makes her emotional, thinking about their future together; _Someone Like You_ has them both fighting back tears. To describe it as magical just doesn't come close.

"Thank you," Fitz keeps saying. "You're amazing. I don't know how you did it."

"Twitter, initially," she eventually explains when they've said goodbye to their extraordinary wedding singer and they're taking a breather as the DJ continues to play old classics. She's sitting across his lap on the swing seat by the house, overlooking the party. "I told him our story, how you're such a huge fan of his, then we started to email. He was already going to be in New York at this time of year anyway, which definitely helped."

"It was the best wedding present _ever_."

"Apart from me, you mean?"

"You were already mine," he counters, smirking. He is unbelievably handsome - it's hard to believe she gets to spend every day with him for the rest of her life.

"But now it's official. Legal. You're stuck with me forever."

He takes her left hand in his, admiring their rings together in the twinkling lights which surround them. Then he kisses her fingertips, her wrist; the sensitive underside of her arm, all the way to her throat where he nuzzles his face, making her tremble. Olivia isn't sure if she's ever really swooned before but she definitely is, right now. A wife, falling in love with her husband all over again...

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Mrs Grant."

... And a husband, falling right beside her.


	3. Brown Eyed Girls

**Brown Eyed Girls**

 _ **New York, 5 years later**_

"Where are we going?"

Olivia Grant is laughing, breathless. She's full of anticipation for her husband's surprise, but it's not just that which is making her giddy: even after all this time, she's still exhilarated simply being in his presence.

"You'll see in a minute. We're almost there."

"But I want to know _now_."

Fitz stops suddenly on the sidewalk; tugs on her hand, pulls her against him. Her chest hits his with a dull sound and she giggles, gazing up into his blue eyes. They are dancing with streetlights, and stars, and love.

"You are so annoying," he says, amused - and she doesn't believe a word.

"I am not. You think I'm cute; I know you do."

He laughs; leans down, kisses her. "You are cute, Mrs Grant. You're the cutest thing in the whole damn world."

She can feel her heart fluttering, swelling, melting. "Cuter than the girls?"

"Where do you think they got it from? You're the original, baby."

" _Fitz,"_ she sighs, and he catches it in his mouth. She rises into him, her heels lifting off the ground. Through marriage, pregnancy and parenthood, the way she loves him has evolved over the last seven years, but its foundations remain the same: he makes her happy. And not just happy like a warm cup of tea on a cold morning, or getting lost in a really good book, or lying under the summer sun beside the ocean. He makes her happy in her _bones_ ; happy to the tips of her fingers, to the top of her head and beyond, so that she radiates it wherever she goes. So happy that sometimes, when she hugs him, her whole body shakes with the emotion of it; so happy she smiles whenever he walks in the room, even if he's only been gone a minute; so happy she can't explain it, to anyone, no matter how hard she tries. It's less of a feeling and more of a physical, physiological state: she _is_ happy. She _is_ joyful, all the time.

And it's something she is grateful for every day - especially days like today.

"Thank you for marrying me," she whispers when they break apart, falling into the tenderness of his gaze. "I can't believe it's been five years. Happy anniversary, Fitzy. I love you so much."

"Mmm," he hums contentedly, nuzzling his nose against hers. "I love you more."

"I love you _most_."

This is a contest they have often, and he grins. "Okay. You win. Which really means _I_ win."

She shakes her head, laughing softly. "Now who's the cute one?"

He doesn't answer, just presses his smiling lips to her cheek, holding her tightly in the warmth of his embrace. After all these years, she still craves him: his body, his scent, his unconditional love. She still thinks about him in her daydreams; still can't get enough of their bedtime cuddles, of falling asleep in his arms. Their lives have changed in so many ways but, fundamentally, they are still Livvie and Fitz: the same two best friends who fell in love beneath an English summer sky; who married in The Hamptons exactly five years ago today.

And what a whirlwind adventure they've had together since then. Two babies in the first two years: Lila, conceived on honeymoon in Europe and then Evie, who came along just fourteen months after her sister. They're so identical they could be twins: both mini versions of their mother, with big brown eyes and lighter skin; their curly hair dark but soft, like Fitz's, with a tendency to lighten in the sun. And they're a joy. They truly are angels. Olivia still can't comprehend how blessed she is to belong to this family: to have this perfect man; these sweet, kind, loving daughters who adore each other, and who are so adored by everyone who meets them.

And the rest of her life has turned out pretty great, too. Just before Lila was born they moved to the suburbs, to a sprawling four-bedroom house with cedar wood floors and a huge backyard; now their puppy, Rufus the Golden Retriever, gets to run wild out there, chased around by his two best friends. She walks him with the girls every morning, around their close-knit neighborhood, and often she'll run into a friend and they'll stop for coffee, watching their kids play together in the park, catching up on life. She's aware that a lot of her female friends are envious of her: they think she's so glamorous, with her freelance editorials often featured in the glossy magazines they read; they're jealous of her beautiful, impeccably-behaved daughters and her husband… well, what can she say? He's the same Fitz he's always been: gorgeous, charming and still absolutely besotted with her. If she was anyone else, she'd be jealous of her life too.

He's been busy too, over the last few years. He gained a master's degree in portrait photography, graduated top of his class and finally left his father's company eighteen months ago to set himself up in business. So far he's done work for Vogue, Esquire and the New York Times to name a few, as well as his degree show which earned national acclaim. And he's exhibiting again, opening this weekend - which is where Olivia suspects they might be headed now, because they've wandered into Chelsea where his pop-up studio is.

"Are we gonna stand here all night?" she asks, enjoying snuggling him on the sidewalk but also impatient to find out if her guess is correct. She hasn't seen the studio since the day he booked it, when it was housing someone else's show and he brought her along to get her opinion. And, while she's approved all the photos he's displaying, she's only seen them on his computer. Edited, enlarged and properly lit, she knows they're going to be stunning.

"We might," he answers, a smile evident in his voice. "I like it here."

She looks up at him and he kisses her until she's smiling, too.

"How many times do you think we've kissed?" she wonders aloud, making him chuckle.

He takes her hand and they begin to walk again. "I don't know. A thousand?"

"Fitz! In seven years? You really think we've only kissed a thousand times?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, Little Miss Bossy. What's your guess?"

Honestly, she has no idea. But she does have the best answer: "Not enough. I won't ever have kissed you enough."

"Ugh. _So_ cheesy, Livvie."

But he draws her against him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and she knows he loves what she said because the way he presses his lips to her temple and holds them there for a long time is so tender, so heartfelt.

"Just when I think I can't love you anymore," he muses, "You go and say something like that."

"Don't worry. I think your show might win you back the title of 'most romantic'."

"Ah," he grins, "You've figured out my surprise. And yes… I think it might."

* * *

It does.

Entitled _Nurture,_ it's a collection of black and white portraits of his muse: her. Specifically, her as a mother. Borne of the thousands of photos he's taken of her since their wedding, through two pregnancies, births and the start of parenthood, he came to her one night eight months ago and asked if he could put her on show. He was so passionate about his idea, and had such a clear vision already, that she said yes straight away. She would never stifle his creativity; plus, she is still so flattered to be his inspiration, so awed that he wants to share her with the world. She's just a mother, and it's the best job ever but it's something that billions of other women do too - really, it's nothing special. And yet, looking at Fitz's photographs of her, so intimate and exquisitely shot, she feels like the opposite is true. She feels incredible. _Extraordinary._

And she hopes other moms might see the images and feel the same way; that they might be empowered to embrace their bodies for the miracles they are, and those they've created. God knows the female population could do with a little more body positivity these days. She's already written the start of a piece for Elle magazine on her experience of (literally) baring herself, and she's planning to finish it off once she's seen the show. Now, with her husband's after-dinner surprise, that will be sooner than she'd anticipated.

He doesn't officially open until Saturday, in two nights' time, but he lets her inside and locks the door behind them. The blinds stay drawn, hiding them from the street, leaving them in darkness.

"Close your eyes," he whispers, moving past her, turning on lights. She's so excited her knees are shaking, and so proud of him she thinks she might cry. His grad show certainly earned its acclaim, but it was put on by the university. This is all him: his dedication; his long hours in his studio in their home; his labor of love. This is _them_ : their family, on display.

"Are you ready?" he asks after a minute, standing in front of her. He sounds nervous. She feels his hands caress her face, his lips on hers. "I hope you like it, baby."

And then she looks - and she's blown away.

Firstly, the studio itself looks magnificent: polished wooden floor, pristine white walls, high ceiling. There's a column in the center, more surface area for photographs, and the lighting is low and clean, with spot lamps perfectly positioned to bring life to his work. To _her._

"Oh Fitz," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "It's _amazing_. Oh my God."

She doesn't know where to look first. It's completely overwhelming.

"Let's start over here," he suggests, guiding her over to the wall on their left. And he doesn't draw his audience in gently. There she is, reflected in the large bathroom mirror in their old apartment: dressed only in her underwear and about four months' pregnant. He captured her in such beautiful moment: morning light, toothbrush forgotten in one hand, the other caressing her belly as she gazes down in wonder. The focus is on the reflection, not on her body, giving the image such depth.

The caption beside the frame reads: ' _You and I',_ with the date it was taken and details of the camera he used. Then: ' _Not for sale'_. He was always firm about that: he wouldn't sell any which give away her identity, or their daughters'. This show isn't about making money, but about artistic expression - with the added benefit that it will promote his name, too.

Olivia wants to touch the picture; to fall into it, to relive such a precious moment all over again. The tears spill over her eyelashes, onto her cheeks, and she squeezes Fitz's hand tightly as she tries to hold onto control. She is so, _so_ lucky. What did she ever do to deserve this life?

They move on to the next shot and she realizes they're chronological. This time she's sitting cross-legged on their bed, wearing a t-shirt and pajama shorts, reading a book to her growing bump. Fitz was standing above her, pointing his lens downwards so the image is just her torso, her hands, her bare legs. He's called it ' _Teacher',_ and that makes her chest hurt. She used to read to Lila all the time, before she was born. Fitz would often come and sit behind her and she'd lean back against him, sometimes letting him take over. He used to change the words, to make it dirty, to reduce her to fits of giggles.

"We were so young then, weren't we?" she says softly, more to herself than to him. She can barely remember feeling so carefree; it was such a different time.

The photographs continue, various sizes and dates leading up to the birth of their first child. Olivia unpacking a teddy bear from a box in their new house and holding it to her chest, her eyes peacefully closed _('So I'll always be near')_ ; a close up of a mug of tea resting on her belly, its surface rippled because of the baby's kicks _('Saying hello')._ There's her at term, fast asleep in bed, the focus on a stack of pregnancy and birth books on the bedside table _('Ready for you')_ ; pacing the living room, trying to walk off her contractions, unmistakable excitement in her eyes _('I breathe in your courage' / 'Not for sale')._ One picture in the hospital, of his hand on her pregnant tummy for the last time _('Not long now, baby girl')_.

And then suddenly there's their daughter, about thirty minutes old. Fitz didn't get his camera out any sooner, wanting to be present in the moment - and besides, he was crying too much to use it anyway. Lila is already breastfeeding, her tiny fist curled around Olivia's little finger, her dark eyes taking in the world around her _('You are our best thing' / 'Not for sale')._

"Look at her," Olivia sighs, leaning in to her husband. "She's so perfect."

"I remember it like it was yesterday."

"So do I."

He doesn't let her dwell there for too long, leading her onwards instead. Maybe he can tell that she'd probably stay all night if she could, just gazing at her firstborn, feeling that rush of pure, indescribable love all over again. But it continues, because Lila is in all of the next images: the back of her head as she rests on her mother's shoulder after a feed, her wisps of dark hair just starting to curl at the nape of her powder-soft neck _('Three AM quiet')_ ; her tiny feet and even smaller toes _('Tread softly')_. Now they're outside, in the park: Olivia is pregnant again, her sweater pulled up, Lila's little hand pressed to the gentle swell of her abdomen as she gazes up at her momma with confusion in her eyes _('Who is this?' / 'Not for sale')_.

A few months later, Olivia is lying on their bed on her side, Lila curled around her protruding belly, breastfeeding. Olivia looks so calm, as if she's asleep _('Natural' / 'Not for sale')_. Fitz tells her it's one of his favorites, which explains why it's also one of the largest photographs on display - almost six feet high, filling half of the back wall of the studio. She loves it, too. She can remember those days so clearly, despite her exhaustion. She was just so _happy_. Lila was such an easy baby, Fitz had decided to work part-time so he was around a lot more, and she loved being pregnant again - feeling her child's movements, seeing the bond Lila already had with her bump, as if she somehow knew that her sister was inside.

And then came the hottest summer on record, and being heavily pregnant was definitely not as fun this time around. In every picture in the few months before Evie's birth, she's barely dressed: the most she could manage around the house was a crop top and printed cotton shorts, or a bikini. But the photos Fitz has taken are still so interesting, capturing her in her day-to-day activities: washing up, folding clothes on her belly; resting a glass of water there, or a half-eaten apple. Standing in the kitchen in her underwear in the middle of the day, writing something on the calendar. He's turned the mundane into a gorgeous homage to his wife, and his appreciation for her shines through.

"I love this one," he says quietly as they pause beside another large black and white shot. She's sitting at her desk, typing on her laptop with one hand while simultaneously giving Lila a bottle as she lies across her tummy. It's taken from just above her shoulder so neither of their faces are visible, and titled: _'Writer, Nourisher, Nurturer (Wonder Woman)'_.

"I do look like Wonder Woman," Olivia admits with a smile, proud of how strong she seems, of how infinitely capable.

"You _are_ Wonder Woman, Livvie." He turns her towards him, his expression sincere. "This entire show is celebrating how wonderful you are; how powerful, how awe-inspiring. Most days I still can't believe I'm the one who gets to be with you; that my children get to have you as their mother. I mean, look at you." He gestures around the room, his tribute to her. "You're a fucking goddess."

She starts to laugh but he kisses her, long and slow, until nothing's funny anymore and there are tears in her eyes again. "Stop making me cry," she sniffs when he finally lets her go. "It's supposed to be our anniversary."

"Sorry," he grins, hugging her tightly. "I'm just being honest. Anniversaries are times for professing one's love, are they not?"

"Oh Fitzy. Most men buy chocolates, flowers, spa days. This isn't just professing your love. This is… something else."

He shrugs. "This is what inspires me. _You_ are what inspires me. Now come on, we haven't even finished yet."

There are a couple more images of her still pregnant with Evie: a side profile of her bare tummy with Lila's squidgy little bottom sitting on top, Olivia's hand with her diamond rings holding her daughter's thigh _('Wife, Mother, Protector')._ A series of thirty photos, in one large frame: Fitz had set his camera on a tripod, to take shots at intervals over a five-minute period. It's evening, just days before Evie made her appearance into the world. Olivia is sitting on the sofa, breastfeeding Lila before bed. The first shots are full of movement: Fitz moving to sit behind his wife, who is adjusting their daughter's position. Then slowly the pictures settle, and become utterly serene: Lila gazing into her mother's eyes as Fitz watches her little face with wonder. Then she's looking at him, her fingers curled around his against Olivia's chest. Fitz's other hand is caressing his wife's belly, his second child; then her palm covers his, Lila's eyes close, husband and wife gaze at each other lovingly. It's simply entitled: _'Love' (/ 'Not for sale')._

Olivia didn't know he was going to put these photos in the show, but she's so glad he has. They're beautiful.

"Can we keep this one at home?" she wonders, again having to restrain herself from reaching out and touching the glass, trying to enter the memory, to have those five minutes all over again.

"I was thinking about the upstairs landing-"

"Next to the bathroom? Yes." They smile at each other. They read each other's minds so often, these days. "Is it time to meet Evie?" she asks softly, even as they're moving on.

"Here she is."

A very quick labor, this time. She barely made it inside the hospital from the car; several pushes later, still wearing her own t-shirt because there was no time to change into a gown, their second daughter was born amid a cacophony of noise and chaos - except for Olivia, who was the calmest she had ever felt. She just knew what her body was doing this time; she trusted it implicitly. And it gave her the most perfect baby girl, who suckled immediately and didn't even cry. She had never felt strength like it before. She could take on the world now. She was complete.

The photo Fitz took manages to capture almost all of those emotions, which is astounding. The entire hospital room is a mess, clothes and bags and medical paraphernalia all over the floor; and at the epicenter sits this new mommy with her little bundle of pure joy, in another universe altogether. _'Transcendent' / 'Not for sale'_ reads the caption.

She couldn't have picked a better word if she'd tried.

The final shots adorn the column in the center of the studio: eight shoes lined up beside the front door _('And then there were four')_ ; Olivia holding two babies against her chest, both wrapped in towels after bath time, Evie's hand clasping her big sister's _('I've got you');_ Olivia in her underwear in front of a different mirror this time, a few months postpartum, using her fingers to make a heart shape over her tummy which is softer now than it once was _('Thank you' / 'Not for sale')_. And, finally, one of Fitz with his three girls, taken much more recently in the park using his tripod and a remote. He and Olivia are sitting on the grass on a bright summer's day, each holding one of their daughters who are wearing matching polka dot dresses, their curly hair in ponytails, with identical grins on their gorgeous faces. He must have taken fifty shots to finally get one where they were all looking at the camera, but it was worth it. This print is black and white but they have the original color version hanging on their kitchen wall at home, and every time she looks at it, Olivia is filled with love.

Its title?

' _Family' (/ 'Not for sale')._

"Fitz, it's… I can't describe how incredible this is. I am so proud of you." She reaches up to kiss him, to hold onto him as tight as she can. "How does it make you feel, seeing it all finished?"

"You know how I feel," he says solemnly, sliding his hands around her hips, pulling her against him. "What I want to know is, how do _you_ feel?"

"Honestly?"

"Always."

She takes a deep breath; suddenly her heart is racing. "I feel… like I want another baby."

He blinks. "Really?"

"Yes."

She's trying to read him. They've vaguely discussed the possibility of a third child before, but not in the last six months and never really seriously. Is he pleased with the idea or not? She can't tell.

"How long have you been thinking about it?"

"I've literally just decided." She winds her fingers into his curls, gazing into his handsome face. Fatherhood hasn't aged him a day; in fact, he just keeps on getting sexier. "I'd love to be pregnant again. I'd love to go through all this one more time." She looks around the room, at the happiness contained within each photograph. "Wouldn't you?"

When she looks back, he has the biggest smile on his face. "I would," he says, pressing his mouth to hers. "I would, Livvie. Let's do it."

Their kisses rapidly become more heated as Fitz backs her into the wall, careful to avoid his artwork. He trails his lips down her throat, his hands kneading her breasts, and she starts to giggle. "What?" he asks gruffly, biting on her shoulder.

"Did we really just decide to have another baby?"

"Yep. No going back now. I want you knocked up and barefoot in my kitchen as soon as possible, Mrs."

She laughs, tilting her head back, letting out a long exhale. She can feel Fitz's palm on her abdomen, his breath on her sensitive skin. The thought of being pregnant again is warming her body, turning her on.

"I can't wait for you to grow another baby bump," he says, kissing his way around her ear. "You're so sexy when you're pregnant, Livvie. I've spent so many months looking at all these photos of you and wondering if I'd ever get to see you like this again."

Her dark gaze meets his and she knows they're both thinking about the phenomenal sex they used to have when she was expecting Lila.

"Are you sure?" she asks, one more time. It would be so easy to get carried away right now, but this is a life-changing decision - and on her part at least, a spontaneous one.

"I've never been surer of anything," Fitz replies. "Are _you_ sure?"

She draws him closer. Every cell in her entire body is telling her this is what she wants; what she suspects she's wanted for a while now, even though she didn't realize until tonight. "I'm sure. Can you imagine how excited the girls will be if we're lucky enough to give them a baby brother or sister?"

"Judging by how much they dote on their dolls, I think any future children of ours will be well and truly spoilt."

She beams at him. "I think so too. Now, take me home so we can practice baby-making."

"Really?" He tugs on her hand, pulling her towards the door. "That's how you proposition me on our anniversary night?"

"Oh, sorry. Please?"

His laughter echoes through the studio and into the night - one which, like the rest of their lives together, is only just beginning.


	4. These Are The Days

**A/N:** Fuck it. I wrote more. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **These Are The Days**

 _ **4 weeks**_

She's sick when she wakes up in the morning - that's how she knows. Pregnancy always makes her sick. And after six months of trying and _not_ being sick, she is so unbelievably happy to be sitting here on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the mosaic tiles, shivering from the cold April night and her stomach still contracting beneath her diaphragm and, above all, the _excitement_.

Another baby.

They'd almost given up hope - and that was okay. Their family already feels complete; a third child would be a blessing, but not a necessity.

Now that she's here, though, and almost certain her instinct is right, it hits her just how much she's been longing for this to happen. It's dominated her thoughts, her plans; seeped into their sex life so that every time she's left wondering, _"Was that it? Did we just make a baby?"_ And she can see it in Fitz's eyes too, when they're curled up together afterwards. The hope; the ridiculous feeling that they're somehow failing, even though conception is a natural and miraculous process immune to their deepest desires, their best attempts. There's no 'A for effort'; just 'Keep on trying'.

When she feels her nausea has settled a little, she takes a pregnancy test. She's done them at random over the last few months, just in case - but today is so different. Today is for confirmation. While she waits she washes her face, brushes her teeth. It's only six AM. She's wondering if the girls will be awake soon, or if she and Fitz will have some time alone to process the news first. To celebrate. It doesn't even cross her mind that it might be negative.

It isn't.

She runs into their bedroom; lifts the covers, climbs onto him. He's sleeping on his side so she's straddling his hip, her torso resting along his arm, her chin tucked over his shoulder.

" _Fitz."_

He grumbles. She smiles as she kisses the corner of his jaw, nuzzles her nose against his ear. God, she loves him so much. It's almost uncontainable, sometimes.

"Fitzy, wake up. Guess what?"

He starts to turn and she lifts her hips, letting him roll onto his back. There's the faintest slither of light from the landing, just enough to make out the shape of his face. She knows where his lips are from memory and kisses him, her hands on his warm neck, thumbs brushing over his stubble. His morning erection is nestled between her thighs, strong and familiar.

"Hi," he murmurs, holding onto her waist. "What's up?"

She can't keep it in. "We did it - we made a baby!"

There's a beat.

"What? Liv!" He sits up suddenly, taking her with him, squeezing her tight. "Oh my God. Are you sure?"

She doesn't think she's ever smiled so hard before, her lips curved against his hair as she returns his embrace with all her strength. "I just took a test," she says quietly. "Before that, I was sick."

"Oh, sweetheart." He draws back; brushes his fingertips over her face in the dark. He knows her by memory, too. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel… _so_ happy. I can't believe it. I thought it might never happen."

"So did I."

He leans away, switches on the bedside lamp. She blinks, taking him in in all his sleep-ruffled glory. The blue of his eyes still takes her breath away.

"You're going to be a daddy again," she says tenderly, running her fingers through his chestnut curls.

"And you'll be a mommy of three."

She squeals. He laughs and kisses her chin, her mouth. "I love you, Livvie. You're _amazing_."

His hand comes to rest on her belly, saying hello to the third baby they've made together, snug and safe inside her womb. She rests her forehead against his and sighs with such contentment. "I love you more."

"I love you _most_." His voice is firm.

This time, she knows better than to argue.

* * *

 _ **8 weeks**_

She's been having some bleeding.

Just a few spots over the last twenty-four hours, but it's more than enough to freak her out. She's still being sick in the mornings and there's no pain, which should be reassuring, but she barely sleeps the night before the urgent scan she organized. How will she tell Fitz if she loses their baby? It will break his heart.

It will break her entirely.

She hides it all from him. He'd worry so much, and what would be the point? She's worrying enough for them both anyway.

But she needn't have. She drops the girls at kindergarten and drives straight to her OB's office; as soon as the probe touches her belly, she sees her baby and she just knows it's all okay. Her doctor confirms it: "There's the heartbeat."

She cries.

It's relief, initially, and then it's overwhelming love for this tiny life inside of her; finally, it's because she feels so _selfish_. She should have told Fitz - then he could be here with her, could be seeing their child for the first time too. It doesn't seem fair that he's missing out.

She takes a video of the ultrasound on her phone, as her OB assesses them both. Olivia is no expert but as far as she's concerned, her baby looks utterly perfect.

"I can't see a cause for your bleeding," Dr Lee tells her after a full examination. "There's nothing that concerns me. Some women do get spotting; often it stops, but sometimes it can continue until twelve weeks, or twenty weeks, or occasionally all the way through pregnancy."

"But my baby is okay?"

"Your baby is doing just fine. You're eight weeks, three days today. So your due date is… December twentieth. A Christmas baby."

That's how she tells Fitz, later, when she gets home and he's back from his early morning photoshoot, opening mail in the kitchen. "Guess what?"

He puts down the letters and takes her into his arms, a frown on his handsome face. "The last time you asked me that, you told me you were pregnant. So I really can't imagine what's happened now."

She beams at him. "We… are having a Christmas baby!"

"What?"

He skim-reads the scan report she hands him. "I had some spotting yesterday," she explains, "But it's all fine. There's nothing wrong with me, or our little bean."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, his frown deepening, as she takes out her phone and opens the video.

"I didn't want you to worry. Look."

This is the way to handle Fitz, when his protective instincts start to get the better of him: distraction. And what could be more consuming than a film of their unborn child, moving its little limbs inside her?

"Oh wow."

They watch together in silence, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest. He presses replay several times.

"I'm so sorry you weren't there," she says quietly.

Fitz lifts her onto the counter and draws her close. "It's okay. I forgive you. I'd forgive you anything, sweet baby. I'm just glad you're both alright."

She rubs his nose with hers; lets her mouth fall softly onto his and linger there, as they smile and make contented noises together.

"Did your doctor give you any advice about sex?" he asks eventually, placing gentle kisses on her neck.

Her head tilts back, her legs gripping his hips. "She said it was fine. I'd like to wait a bit, though. Just to make sure the bleeding is settling."

"Okay." He continues on with his kisses, his hands massaging her thighs. "How do you feel about a little… finger play?"

She laughs at his choice of words, even as he presses his fingertips against her center through her jeans, conjuring the most delicious rush of heat.

"I feel… pretty good," she admits, letting him rub circles on her, melting into his expert touch. "And we do have a child-free house for another two hours."

"So, we should make the most of it - is that what you're saying?"

She slips down from the countertop and takes his hand. "That is _definitely_ what I'm saying."

* * *

 _ **12 weeks**_

Olivia reaches twelve weeks just before Lila's fifth birthday. Her bleeding did stop, and then she started to show and her boobs began to grow, and she finally felt reassured. The girls haven't noticed yet but Rufus, their dog, seems to know something has changed: he's by her side constantly, and in the evenings he'll lie with his head on her belly, protecting her and the baby. Fitz always looks a little jealous, because he wants to be the one who gets to snuggle her while they watch TV, and it makes her smile and adore him even more.

He was there for her three-month scan earlier in the week, which revealed normal growth, strong heartbeat, no concerns. This is definitely her final pregnancy, but seeing his face as he watched the screen, witnessing the tears forming in his eyes, was almost enough to convince her to keep on having babies for as long as she can. One of her favorite things in the world is witnessing how Fitz loves their children, and how that unending devotion makes him such an incredible father. Knowing that every milestone with this baby will be their last, she's trying to cherish each one even more.

They tell their daughters about the baby the day before Lila's birthday party. It's mid-June and it's warm, so Fitz has filled the inflatable pool in the backyard and he's out there playing with them both, the sound of their laughter filling the summer air. After finishing some work in her office, Olivia changes into a bikini top and shorts and joins them, taking out a tray of homemade watermelon popsicles. She asks the girls to sit at the table so they can eat them together.

"We have some really exciting news to tell you," she says, holding her husband's hand.

"Is it about my party?" Lila asks excitedly, brushing her long curls back from her face with sticky fingers. "Is the bouncy house man bringing me a bouncy house?"

She's asked the same question every day for the past two weeks. Olivia and Fitz haven't given her an answer yet, because they can't wait to see her reaction tomorrow when there is indeed a bouncy house erected right here in their garden.

"Daddy, can I go on the bouncy house?" Evie chimes in. "Oscar said I'm too small but I really wanna!"

Oscar, Kate and Ben's oldest, is two years older than Lila. Both girls worship him - which is sweet, because he's generally a good kid - but sometimes he does tease them, and they're still too young to understand.

" _If_ there's a bouncy house," Fitz reasons, leaning across the table to put Lila's pink Minnie Mouse sunhat back on her head, and not on the seat beside her, "You can both go on it. Okay?"

"Okay!"

"We can go on together!" Lila cheers, grinning at her sister. Olivia's heart swells. The two of them are so damn cute, in their matching navy-and-white striped swimsuits. Every day, she wishes they would stop growing; that they would stay like this forever, happy and funny and just small enough to pick up, to hold so tightly in her arms.

"Mommy, this popsicle is _de_ licious," Lila goes on, elongating the 'e' sound, making Evie giggle and repeat it.

"Deeeeelicious!"

"You made them with me, remember?" Olivia says with a smile. "So that means you must both be _really_ good cooks."

"Are we having popsicles at my party?"

"Would you like popsicles at your party?"

"Yes!"

"Well then," Fitz says, "Seeing as it's your birthday, I suppose we'll have to have popsicles. No big girl should turn five without popsicles."

"Or cake."

They both laugh at their eldest daughter - five going on fifteen. "Or cake," Olivia agrees. "Now, we have a present for both of you."

"Can I open it?" Evie asks straight away.

"No, I want to, I'm older!"

"It's ' _may_ I open it'," Olivia corrects, "And neither of you may just yet. It's not ready."

Their little faces form identical frowns. Clearly that concept is too much for them.

"What is it?" Lila inquires in such a polite way that Olivia wants to squeeze her tight and kiss her beautiful face all over.

"It's…" She glances at Fitz, who smiles. "A baby brother or sister."

Then she stands up, showing them her bump. "He or she is still growing inside my tummy, so they're not ready just yet. But later this year, just before Christmas, you'll get to meet them."

Lila looks stunned; Evie doesn't seem to comprehend.

"There's a baby… inside you?" she asks, wide-eyed.

"Yes. Come here." She holds out her hand. They both get down from their chairs, leaving the remains of their popsicles on the table, and she places their palms on the swell of her abdomen. "Look at my tummy. It's bigger than it used to be, because the baby is growing inside. And it's going to get a lot bigger until Christmas, when the baby will be born."

"And then you can cuddle it," Fitz adds, gazing up at his wife with so much love. "And you can help feed it, and when it gets bigger you can play with him or her."

The girls both look amazed.

"Do you remember Aunty Kate last year," Olivia says patiently, "When she had a big tummy?" Lila nods; Evie is still staring at her belly, poking it with her finger. "She was growing Freddie. And Aunt Abby had a baby in her tummy last year too, and so did Miss French at kindergarten."

"And that lady at the swimming pool last week," Lila adds. She'd been fascinated by this heavily-pregnant woman in a bikini.

"That's right," Olivia smiles. "Lots of women grow babies. I grew you two."

"So we were inside you?" Evie asks seriously. She can be so solemn sometimes - it's adorable.

"Yes."

"At the same time?"

"No. I grew Lila first, and then you second. That's why Lila is older."

"Oh."

"I can't _feel_ a baby," Lila says, now also poking her mother's abdomen.

"You will be able to, in a little while. They'll kick you, one day, to say hello. It's… the best feeling in the world."

She glances at Fitz, who looks like he completely agrees. He picks Lila up and lifts her onto his lap; Olivia sits down again and holds Evie on hers. "Now there are four of us," he says, kissing his daughter's cheek. "But at Christmas there'll be five. Mommy and I are really excited. Are you, baby girl?"

She nods. "How far away is Christmas?"

"About six months."

"Okay. Is that a long time?"

"It's quite a long time. But I think it will go really fast."

"How about you, pumpkin?" Olivia asks Evie, taking off her hat, retying her messy ponytail. "You'll have a little brother or sister, like Oscar and Daisy have baby Freddie."

"Will it be a boy?" she wonders, pulling at the string of Olivia's top.

"We don't know yet. It might be a girl or a boy. But either way, we'll love them just the same, won't we?"

She doesn't look convinced. "I like girls better."

Olivia and Fitz had thought this could be a potential issue, having two very girly daughters, so her counterargument is already prepared. "What about poor Daddy? He's a boy."

Evie looks up at her father, who has a hurt expression. It makes her giggle. "Daddy, stop it! Don't be sad."

He puts Lila down and starts to walk away. Evie jumps off Olivia's lap and chases him, laughing. Naturally, her sister joins in. "Daddy! Daddy, wait!"

When they catch him, he suddenly turns and roars at them. The speed at which they try to run away, shrieking, has Olivia in stitches. Obviously the don't get very far: he lifts one child in each arm, marching them towards the pool.

"Tell me you love me or I'm dropping you in," he threatens, dangling them over the water. They wriggle and cry out in protest, laughing but terrified all the same.

"I love you!" They chorus. "Please Daddy! No!"

He drops them in anyway and then joins them, letting them both splash him in retaliation.

"Come on Mommy," he calls, grinning as his daughters clamber all over him.

Olivia shakes her head with a smile, staying right where she is, her hand resting lovingly on her belly. "We're good here," she replies contentedly, glancing down. "Aren't we, baby?"

The rough play is going to be Fitz's domain for the foreseeable future.

II

The kids are thrilled with the party the next day, not least Lila herself who screams when she sees the bouncy house. While sixteen three-to-eight-year-olds run wild in the yard, supervised by Fitz and various other parents, Olivia is chatting to Kate in the shade of the porch, holding little Freddie.

"You're so _cute_ ," she tells him, breathing in his gorgeous baby smell. She makes a silly face and he giggles, clapping her cheeks with his hands.

"Someone's broody," Kate says, eyeing her suspiciously. "Broody or… pregnant?"

She glances down at Olivia's waist, where her bump is plainly visible beneath her olive green maxi-dress. Until now she'd been trying to hide it, waiting for her twelve-week scan and the chance to tell the girls. Today, she's on display for the first time - and she can't disguise her smile.

"Oh, my goodness!" her friend exclaims. "Olivia Grant! Why didn't you tell me?"

She explains her reasons, adding: "We'd been trying for six months and I had some spotting, so we really didn't want to jinx it. But so far, so good."

"Well, you look _amazing_ mama. Look at your little belly."

"Little? It's bigger than when I was pregnant with Lila or Evie. Did you find that the third time?"

"Yep. Bigger belly, bigger boobs, bigger arse. And everything's just more difficult in general, being older and having two kids already…" She purses her lips, looking guilty. "I mean, it's all great. You'll be fine."

Olivia chuckles. "Thanks K. You're filling me with confidence."

"The labor is definitely easier. Well, quicker at least. It's never easy, is it? Although you'll probably ace it like last time. Evie just slipped right out of you."

"I'm crossing my fingers for an even faster labor this time."

"What, twenty minutes?"

"Don't exaggerate. Maybe thirty."

They both laugh. In reality, she was properly contracting for about six hours with Evie; it all became a rush once her waters had broken. She hopes this baby doesn't want to come out any more quickly, because she definitely wants to make it to the hospital sooner this time.

"I'm due just before Christmas," she tells Kate, instinctively swaying her hips as Freddie's head comes to rest on her shoulder. "Fitz keeps coming up with themed names."

"Like Noel, Nicholas, Holly?"

"Rudolph, Santa, Jesus…" She rolls her eyes. "He's ridiculous."

But the way she looks at him across the garden, as he carries the birthday girl around on his shoulders, betrays her real feelings. He is truly the best father in the world.

"You still get so gooey-eyed over him," Kate observes, and she sounds a little envious. "My delightful husband drives me mad _all_ the time."

"Aw, Ben's awesome. You need to cut him some slack."

Her friend sighs. "Maybe. Anyway, do you want me to take him?" She gestures to her son. "He's a dead weight when he's asleep."

"No, I'm good. I love cuddles with him."

"Can I get you a drink then?"

"An iced tea would be great. Thank you."

She takes a seat on the outdoor sofa, settling Freddie into the cradle of her left arm. Evie comes over and climbs up beside her.

"Hi sweetie," Olivia says softly, wrapping her free arm around her daughter. "How are you?"

"I went on the bouncy house. Did you see me?"

"I sure did. You were jumping so high."

Evie grins at her. "It was _so_ fun. Will you bounce with me?"

"I will a bit later, I promise. Have you asked Daddy? I think he can jump _much_ higher than I can."

"As high as the sun?"

"Probably."

Without another word, she runs off to find Fitz. Olivia watches her go, full of emotion. She is _so_ lucky to have her husband and her girls, and to be surrounded by wonderful friends. Her and Fitz's fathers are both due to come over a bit later too, to join the end of the party and stay for dinner. She knows they'll both be over the moon to have another grandchild to coo over. Some of her favorite photos that Fitz has taken are ones of her dad with the girls, and the way he dotes on them.

Kate joins her again for a short time, until Oscar and Daisy make her go and play with them. She's replaced by Fitz who takes Freddie from her, still sleeping, to give her arms a rest.

"How are you, beautiful?" he asks her, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb before kissing her tenderly. "You've been sat here for ages. Everything okay?"

"I'm good," she reassures him, lacing her fingers through his. "I'm just enjoying baby cuddles, and watching the kids exhaust you guys out there."

"In the battlefield, you mean?" When he grins, she can see Evie so clearly in him. "It's hard work. I'm going to need a serious massage later, to recover."

"Ha. You wish." But her smile promises otherwise. "I told Kate I'm pregnant. Well, she guessed."

"What did she say?"

"She warned me how difficult it's going to be."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't listen to her. You know she likes to complain. You're going to be awesome, baby."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're always awesome. That's why I married you."

She falls into his gaze. "I love you."

"And so you should," he says with a devilishly handsome smirk, "Because I'm awesome too."

* * *

 _ **16 weeks**_

They vacation in Mexico, in a beautiful beachside villa with their own pool and - best of all - a kids' club. Having reached her second trimester, and feeling so relaxed and pampered, Olivia has well and truly entered the insatiable phase of her pregnancy - and Fitz is only too happy to indulge her as often as she likes.

Which is pretty much constantly.

She can't remember the last time they had so much sex. They're crazy for one another, like at the very start of their relationship, or when they were newlyweds and expecting Lila. The trouble is, there's always so much of his incredible body on show, muscular and more tanned by the day. Add to that the fact that he's constantly applying sun screen to her skin, or aftersun lotion, or soaping her up in the shower, or running his hands over her curves in their pool, and she's in a near-permanent state of arousal.

And every time she tries to voice her guilt that they're not spending all day entertaining their children, he reminds her that the whole reason they picked this resort was to have some time alone together, that they're a couple as well as parents, and that the girls absolutely love all the activities they get to do. In fact, at dinner they barely stop talking about how much fun they've had.

"So really," Fitz murmurs one afternoon, drawing her closer beneath the shady canopy of their double sun-lounger, "There's nothing else for us to do but this." He kisses her neck. "And this." Slips his fingers into her bikini bottoms. "And this." Her back arches as his mouth closes around her nipple, making her moan and submit to him entirely.

Who is she to argue with such logic?

In the evenings, after their daughters have collapsed into their beds, happy and exhausted, Olivia sits on Fitz's lap on their front terrace, overlooking the ocean. The sound of the waves on the shore is so soothing, and live samba music reaches them from the nearby restaurant, and the air is warm but there's a breeze - and everything is perfect.

Fitz rests his hand on her belly, hoping to feel the movements she's already aware of, but it's still too early for him to appreciate such small flutters.

"Soon," she tells him softly, stroking his arm.

"I know. It's okay. I just can't stop touching you."

She turns her face, kisses his mouth. "Mmm. And I _love_ it."

"So needy, Livvie." He nudges her cheek with his nose, making her smile. "Haven't you had enough of me yet?"

"No. And I never will."

She starts to kiss him again, slowly; drawing away whenever he tries to deepen things.

"Tease," he remarks, his deep voice immediately betraying his desire for her.

She stands and begins to dance, swaying her hips to the music, holding out her hand to him with a mischievous quirk of her eyebrows. He joins her, pulling her ass firmly into the cradle of his pelvis, his palms running all over the front of her body as they move so sensually together. Every time he caresses her breasts she whimpers, pleasure radiating outwards and inwards; when his fingers slide up her inner thigh, lifting her dress, ghosting over her core, she finds it difficult to stay on her feet.

"So sexy," he groans in her ear, biting there, making her tremble. "You're so sexy, baby."

"Take me inside," she pleads but he won't, keeping her dancing through song after song, all hot skin pressed together and his hardness against her softer parts and grinding - so much grinding. It's not long at all before she's right on the edge; a quivering mess, with her lips bruised by his ferocious kisses and his fingers wet and slick from delving inside her, illicitly, right here in the open.

"Fitz, _bed_ ," she commands, finally managing to break his spell, to separate herself from him just enough to breathe again. "Now."

He spreads her out naked on the white sheets of their California king bed and lies between her legs, licking her into a quick and shattering climax.

"God, I love the way you taste," he sighs, kissing her thighs, the rise of her belly. He gets as far as her breasts before he's heading south again, returning to her center. She's so sensitive it makes her shiver and cry out, but he knows and he's gentle, using the tip of his tongue, blowing cool air over her.

"I don't know if I can-" she starts to say but his fingers are back inside her and she's clenching around him, already ready for more.

He takes it slow; takes her almost all the way before suddenly he's moving, kneeling, lifting her ass in his hands and thrusting into her. She could come just from this, from this heavenly fullness, this stretching, throbbing, thrumming - but he asks her to wait, and she does. She'd do anything for him, right now. Anything at all.

Her heels come to sit in the creases of his hips and he leans down, kissing her, as her nails dig into his back, run through his hair. The angle he's creating, the way his cock hits her G-spot each and every time, gives her the most unbelievable pleasure. They won't be able to have sex in this position for much longer and that's a shame, because she loves having access to all of him: his body, his hands, his mouth; his kisses and his smile, his sweet words in her ear. She loves how they come together like this; how they gaze into each other's eyes, how he knows she's almost there and he swirls his tongue over her nipples and then quickly returns to kiss her one last time, to watch her face as she lets go, to fall alongside her.

They lie for a long time afterwards, recovering. Their lovemaking just gets better and better, and she marvels at how that's still possible after eight years together.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Fitz asks at length, his bare body curled around hers, his fingertips drawing patterns on her skin.

She lifts her chin; presses her lips to his. "More of the same please," she requests sweetly. "We only have two more days before we go back to reality."

"Mmm." He kisses her shoulder, her collarbone. "Well then. Your wish, sweet baby… is my command."

* * *

 _ **20 weeks**_

"So, the examination is completely normal. You have a very healthy baby, Olivia. Would you like to know the gender?"

She looks at her husband, sat beside the examination couch in her OB's office. He meets her eyes and nods.

"Yes please."

It's something they've discussed a lot. They didn't find out with the girls but this time, Olivia just wants to be prepared. They still have so many baby clothes in the attic, so much pink stuff, and if they're expecting a boy then she'd like to have a clear out before he arrives. Initially Fitz was hesitant, preferring a surprise, but gradually he's come around.

"Your baby is… a little boy. Congratulations."

Fitz is on cloud nine for the rest of the day; so is she, although she kind of suspected already. This pregnancy feels different to her others, and her bump is already lower, and it was probably just superstition but in her mind she's been referring to the baby as a 'he' for a while now.

It's Evie's birthday that weekend but they don't tell the girls until afterwards, because they both keep talking about wanting a sister and Olivia isn't sure how they're going to take the news. "We could just keep it a secret," Fitz suggests, which is tempting, but now that they know he's a he, they're going to be using those pronouns all the time.

In the end, they decide to take them both shopping to a baby store. "You can each choose something for the baby," Olivia explains in the parking lot, crouching down in front of them. "And guess what?"

"What?"

Her son picks just the right moment to start moving. She places the girls' hands on her belly, letting them feel. It still makes them both giggle, fascinated.

"We found out that the baby is a boy."

Lila looks straight into her eyes, stunned. "A boy?"

Fitz kneels down beside his eldest daughter, kissing her hair. "How cool is that? Daddy gets to have another boy in the house."

"And you get to have a brother," Olivia enthuses. "You'll be his big sister."

"What about me?" Evie asks. "Do I get to be his big sister too?"

"Of course you do, little monkey." Fitz ruffles her curls. "He's going to be the luckiest baby boy in the whole world, having you two to look after him."

Evie nods, seemingly happy to accept this news. Olivia is still looking at Lila, wondering how she's feeling about it.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

Her forehead creases into a frown. "Can I still buy him Minnie Mouse things? Because I _really_ like Minnie Mouse."

Olivia meets Fitz's gaze, trying not to laugh - with amusement, and with relief. "Of course you can," Fitz tells her adoringly. "And maybe we can give Mickey a chance too."

But she's already skipping away down the sidewalk, holding her sister's hand.

"Or maybe not," Olivia says with a grin, as Fitz wraps his arm around her shoulders and they follow their sweet, gorgeous girls into the store.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_


	5. Our Best Decision

_**24 weeks**_

Their sixth wedding anniversary falls on a Friday, the last weekend of summer before the girls go back to kindergarten. After dropping them off at her father's house, Olivia has brought Fitz into NYC on this sunny September afternoon and she's planned all sorts for them to do - because how often do they manage to get away without the kids? - but he has other ideas, seducing her the second they're inside their hotel room -

Because how often do they manage to get away without the kids?

Afterwards they stay in bed for ages, enjoying the luxury of five-star sheets and the view of the city from forty stories up and simply having _time_ : time to be together without the responsibilities of parenthood; time to be naked, to snuggle, to bond with their baby boy. He's a wriggler, active for most of the day, and even though this is her third pregnancy the magic of it hasn't faded. She's still in awe of her body; still feels so unbelievably lucky to be able to grow this perfect little human. She thinks he's starting to respond to her voice, to recognize his mommy, and that makes everything _real_. Only four months to go until he's here, until she's a mother of three.

She simultaneously can't wait but also never wants this part of her life to be over. She just loves being pregnant.

"This is the best decision we ever made," she says softly, with Fitz spooned up behind her and their hands joined on her belly, feeling their child's movements.

"Date night in reverse?" he teases, nuzzling his nose against her ear. "Mm, I agree."

She laughs; nudges him with her elbow. 'Date night in reverse' means they have sex before dinner, because they used to find they'd get home and be far too full to play. And it works; she even wrote an article about it a few years ago for a women's magazine, one which still generates readers' comments and emails, almost universally agreeing with the concept.

"The _baby_ ," she retorts now, and she can't help the shiver that runs through her when he kisses her neck, when his hips flex subconsciously and his arms tighten around her. "You know, your son? This thing inside me that's kicking you right now, saying hello- _Fitz!_ "

She gasps because his hand has wandered to her chest, and her nipples are exquisitely sensitive these days.

"Yes, Livvie?"

His fingers trail downwards again, over the curve of her abdomen. She instinctively spreads her legs but he pauses, focusing his attention and his kisses on the soft skin beneath her ear. Another reason she loves being pregnant: zero to sixty in ten seconds flat.

"What are you waiting for?" she whispers, moving against his rising erection.

"I thought you wanted to talk about the best decision we ever made."

She tilts her face to look at him, so ridiculously handsome with his summer tan and his playful blue eyes and his heart-melting smile. If she hadn't already lost her train of thought entirely, her all-consuming desire for this man would have stolen it away in an instant.

"Right now," she breathes, raising her palm to his cheek, drawing him down to kiss her, " _This_ is the best decision we've ever made."

He makes her come easily, from this position with his fingers between her thighs, and then he asks her to ride him because he wants to watch her, to adore her in all her glory. It's harder than it used to be: every week her body seems to have changed again, so she thinks she remembers the best way to move but it's always different, always requires some adjustment. Not that Fitz minds, of course: she's naked and he's inside of her, so he's happy. _More_ than happy. And he helps her find her rhythm, sometimes joining in, other times lying perfectly still and taking everything she's giving him. She likes making him come this way best of all.

They shower together afterwards, all soapy hands and more time enjoying the baby's kicks because it's so rare they get to do this at home. Olivia stays wrapped in her towel while she does her hair and makeup and Fitz keeps coming over and trying to unfasten it, his mischievous smile almost melting her resolve. After eight years together, knowing he's still insatiable for her makes her feel like an absolute goddess.

When she's finally ready to go out, checking her figure-hugging, navy blue dress one last time in the mirror, he stands behind her and lovingly covers her belly with his hands. "You were right earlier," he says, meeting her eyes in the glass. "This little guy was our best decision."

She slides her fingers into the spaces between his and smiles.

"You look _beautiful_ , by the way," he goes on, his low voice so warm and earnest. "Before our babies, my best decision was telling you how I felt at Ben and Kate's wedding. It was picking out your engagement ring and writing my vows and seeing you there at the end of the aisle: the girl I knew I would love forever."

Tears sting her eyes and he continues to speak even as he turns her in his arms, tenderly wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. "I still feel like that, every single day. I look at you and I can't believe how lucky I am, how lucky our children are. You're the _best_ mommy, the best wife. I love you a million times more than you'll ever know, sweet baby. It's all of me. It's everything I am. Loving you, and our children, is everything I am."

She's half-sobbing, half-laughing when he kisses her, a tidal wave of the deepest joy and fiercest love rising through her. He tells her he loves her all the time; showers her with affection constantly. But it's these rare moments of profundity, of incredulity, when he stops the world with his words, that remind her just how fortunate they are.

"Happy anniversary Livvie," he murmurs in her ear, holding her so tight she can barely breathe. "Six years married to you is nowhere near enough. I can't wait for ten, twenty, fifty."

"Wow," she says quietly, brushing away fresh tears. Her heart is still pounding; she's still feeling his love, physically as well as emotionally. "Fifty years. That would be so awesome."

"We'll get there. I'll make sure of it."

She gazes into his eyes. "Thank you for being mine," she says solemnly, and it doesn't seem like enough after his declaration but she knows he can see inside of her, can see he means everything to her too. "I love you forever. And no-" She puts her finger on his lips. "You don't get to say, _'I love you more'_. Not this time."

"Damn."

They laugh. Fitz kisses her again, gently at first and then harder, when she doesn't let him go. He backs her into the mirror and his hands settle on her hips as they make out. Olivia wishes she could feel more of him, wishes he could get closer without her baby bump in the way.

"Mm," he sighs after several minutes, drawing back for air. "You are so delicious. Are you sure we can't stay here all evening?"

She could very easily be seduced by her gorgeous man all over again. But even though they've lost the afternoon, the surprises she has planned for this evening are too good to miss. Last year, he opened a popup gallery dedicated entirely to her - she has a _lot_ to live up to.

"We could," she says now, running her fingertips down his chest, over his hard abs. "But we're not going to. I just need to fix my makeup and then we can leave. We're not keeping Annie Liebovitz waiting."

She mentions his idol, the renowned portrait photographer, all the time; teases that he's secretly in love with her, that he'd marry her if he could. And, as his laughter follows her into the bathroom, she knows he thinks she's joking.

* * *

She isn't.

* * *

She takes him to dinner in the Chinese restaurant below their old apartment, where they'd eat together or get takeout from even before they were a couple. They haven't been here since they moved out and, just as she'd hoped, Fitz loves it. And they're recognized too, by Szu and Ji Sung, the couple who own it, which makes her feel a little embarrassed at just how often they'd rely on this place for nutrition.

"Congratulations to you both," Szu comments excitedly as she leads them to a booth. "First baby?"

"No, this is number three."

"Oh wow. Good for you, good for you. Lots of hard work, huh? But I'm sure they are beautiful, beautiful children."

She turns and calls to her family in Mandarin, while Olivia looks at her husband with barely-concealed amusement. After they've said hello to everyone who works in the restaurant, many of whom she's certain she's never met before, they're finally left alone to look at the menu - but Fitz closes hers and puts it aside.

"I remember our order. Do you?"

She thinks. "Number seven, twelve… sixteen?"

"Twenty-two, forty, forty-seven, sixty-one, sixty-eight. I can't believe that was actually stored somewhere in my brain." He looks so impressed with himself, it's adorable.

"But how do you know the menu hasn't changed?"

"I just skim-read it. It hasn't. Also, look around - nothing in this place has changed in the last eight years."

It's true: the red plastic tables, the stained carpet, the unusual Chinese artwork on the walls. It's like they've stepped back in time. It even smells the same.

"So, we're having our usual then?" she asks with a smile, covering his hand with hers.

"Why not?"

Half an hour later, their table piled high with prawn crackers, kung pow chicken, beef in black bean sauce, special egg-fried rice and numerous other plates, Olivia is feeling slightly overwhelmed. "Did we really used to eat all this in one go?"

"There were always leftovers for the next morning, when we were hungover."

The thought of that - both being hungover and eating cold Chinese food - makes her feel queasy. "Ugh. Don't remind me."

They manage to get through a reasonable proportion of the meal before admitting defeat, reminiscing about their time living in Fitz's apartment. "Do you know what my favorite memory is?" he asks, pulling her to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around her. This is the kind of friendly neighborhood restaurant where it's perfectly okay to behave like this. They used to be much worse in public when they were first together.

"The time I smashed your TV? Or when the pipes burst?"

He laughs. "Weirdly not. It was seeing you run towards me from the bathroom with your very first positive pregnancy test. I've never forgotten your smile, or how you squealed, or the way we held each other and didn't say a word. I've never forgotten that feeling of complete, indescribable love; nor the feeling of absolute terror."

She giggles, gliding her fingers through his hair. "That was the beginning of baby Lila. Such a long time ago. I can't believe this time next year she'll be starting first grade."

"Neither can I. Our baby girl."

"God, I miss them both already. I hope they're having a good time with my dad."

"Of course they are. He spoils them rotten. I'm sure they've already eaten their body weight in chocolate and now they'll be watching Frozen for probably the third time." The baby kicks suddenly, and Fitz feels it beneath his hand. "You're right son," he says, "It _is_ the most annoying movie in the history of the world. I agree."

"It's not so bad," Olivia argues. "Apart from when the music gets stuck in your head." Unbidden, the chorus of _Let It Go_ starts to play in her mind. "Damn it!"

Fitz chuckles and kisses her cheek. "Shall we go? I'll sing something else to you on the way."

She stands, smoothing down her dress. "Such as?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about _Everything Is Awesome_?"

If anything, the song from The Lego Movie (another favorite of the Grant girls) is even more irritating, and he knows that full well. She playfully slaps his ass as he moves past her. He tugs on her hand, drawing her against him and kissing her mouth. "I love you."

"I know you do. Doesn't change the fact that you're annoying."

He gives her a truly irresistible smile. "Oh, but it does though, doesn't it?"

And, even though she hates to admit it, he's right.

Love changes everything.

* * *

Next stop on their anniversary date night is a tour in a horse-drawn carriage, something else they never did while they lived in the city. It's a warm evening, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, turning the sky pink, blue and orange. They canter around the streets, admiring the historic architecture, reliving all the years they spent here both alone and together, all the places they used to know so well. Fitz takes pictures with his phone, of the scenery and of her, and because he knows what he's doing they're stunning, perfectly capturing the fading light as it falls on her skin, on her smile.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he says seriously, and he hardly ever swears anymore because of the kids so when he does, he really means it. "Look at you."

She doesn't know what to say so she kisses him instead.

Her father calls just after they've dismounted: the girls are going to bed and want to say goodnight. "Hi," she says, feeling her heart swell when she sees her daughters on the screen. She can count on one hand the number of nights she's spent apart from them, and suddenly she feels desperately sad that she's not there to brush their hair, to kiss them, to tuck them in and read them a bedtime story. "Are you having fun with Grandpa?"

Fitz can obviously sense the emotion in her voice because he holds her tight, letting her know that he understands, giving her his strength.

"Yes," the girls say in unison, so sweet and gorgeous in their pink stripy pajamas, sat up in bed in her father's spare room. "We went swimming," Lila continues, "And then we played in the park with Rufus, and then we had chicken nuggets for dinner with ice cream and sprinkles-"

"And we had hot chocolates," Evie chimes in, taking over from her sister, "And we watched Frozen and Grandpa sang along!"

"Wow. Was he good?"

"He was okay," Lila shrugs, and then looks guilty when Olivia hears her father laughing in the background. "Daddy's better. He does all the voices."

"Yoo hoo. Big summer blowout," Fitz says in his best Scandinavian accent, and the girls collapse into fits of giggles. Olivia can't help but laugh too. They chat for a little while longer, until their sleepy daughters are starting to yawn.

"Okay, bedtime for you two," she says fondly, wishing she was there more than anything. "Be good for Grandpa and go straight to sleep, alright?"

"We will. Night Mommy, night Daddy."

"Night munchkins," Fitz says. "We'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"For breakfast?"

"Maybe a bit after breakfast. How about we come over for lunch?"

Evie rubs her eyes. "Okay."

"Can we say goodnight to our brother?" Lila asks, and Olivia can't believe she almost forgot this evening tradition.

"Of course you can." She holds the phone so they can both see her tummy. "He's right here, listening to you."

"I want to kiss him goodnight."

"Daddy will kiss him for you tonight, and you can kiss him tomorrow when we see you."

"Okay. I love you baby brother."

"I love you too," Evie adds.

Olivia feels like she might burst into tears. Fitz takes the phone from her and wishes his girls sweet dreams. After that, he thanks Eli and tells him to call overnight if there are any issues.

"They're angels," Olivia's father replies. "I'm sure they'll be no problem at all. You two just enjoy your time together."

"They're fine," Fitz says firmly as soon as he's hung up, pulling his wife into a hug. She clings to him, missing her babies so much it hurts. "They're going to be _fine_."

"I know," she sighs, willing herself not to cry. "Nothing phases them, does it?"

"Right now, I'd wager they're stronger than you are."

She laughs. "I want to argue with you, but I know you're right."

"Good. Now, what's next on this mystery tour? You keep hinting about something at nine o'clock, and it's a quarter to…"

That brings her back to reality. "Is it? Shit, we need to go. Come on."

* * *

They arrive at the Howard Greenberg Gallery on East 57th Street just as the doors are opening, and as soon as Fitz realizes this is their destination, he turns to her with his mouth wide open in shock. "How did you-? Baby, this is _amazing._ "

It's preview night for Annie Liebovitz's latest show: an exclusive, invite-only event. And it wasn't as hard to get tickets as she'd expected. All it took was a call to the Culture editor of NYT Magazine, whose number she got from a friend of a friend, saying she and Fitz would write a joint review. They've become something of a celebrity couple in the art world since his _Nurture_ exhibition last year. It made waves among photography critics but it was also picked up Buzzfeed, who brought it into the mainstream media. (Their headline was: "This photographer put on a whole popup show in NYC dedicated to his wife and it's giving everyone _all the feels_ ," which still makes her laugh - and Fitz cringe.) Olivia's Instagram account grew by twenty-thousand followers overnight; their story was featured on network news. And obviously it's all died down since then, but her most popular social media posts are always ones that her husband has taken of her and their girls.

She explains the story to him now, as they wait in the small queue outside. "So, when I say _'we'_ are writing the review, I really mean you are. I'm not qualified for this at all."

"You know I said you were the best wife ever? Well, take that and double it."

She tries not to smile too hard. He doesn't even know the best part yet.

* * *

The show is spectacular, of course. They're allowed to wander around the gallery, with canapes and drinks on offer. Olivia is content to follow her husband, to watch the intrigue and wonder on his face with each new portrait he sees, to listen to him discuss lenses and depth and all manner of technical things with other photographers and fans. And then, after about half an hour, there's an announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way through to the back room where the Q&A with Ms Liebovitz will begin in two minutes' time."

And Fitz's stunned expression is priceless.

He gets them to the front row, squeezing through the crowd using variations of: _"Sorry, excuse me, my wife is pregnant, do you mind if we go past you? Thank you so much."_

"Good work," she whispers as they take their seats.

He grins and puts his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. "I love you being pregnant for so many reasons, but this is definitely my number one right now."

And she doesn't mind him admitting that one bit.

She records the session and takes notes while Fitz listens intently to the wise, often funny words of one of his heroes. He asks a couple of questions, easily weaving in compliments as he talks, and Olivia can feel him buzzing beside her, alive with passion for his art, a feeling shared by almost everyone in the room.

Afterwards there are more drinks in the gallery and Annie discusses some of her photographs from close up. By this point Olivia can feel the evening catching up with her and she sits down by the entrance, resting her feet. It's a measure of how absorbed Fitz is that he doesn't notice she's gone for a good twenty minutes - usually he's acutely aware of her presence, attuned to her needs at all times. But she doesn't care. This was a gift for him and he's happier than she could ever have hoped for.

Eventually he comes to get her, to take her back to the hotel. "We can stay longer if you want," she says sincerely. "I'm honestly fine."

"Livvie, you've been so patient. I can't ever thank you enough for this. It was the most incredible surprise. But let's go."

"Fitz, really-"

"I _want_ to go." He puts his palm on the small of her back and leans in close. "I want to take my wife to bed on our anniversary and I want to kiss every single, stunning inch of her. And even if we go to sleep, that is completely fine. I just want to be with you."

And she has no argument for that.

None at all.

* * *

He's true to his word, gently peeling her dress away from her skin in the lamplight, following the same path with his mouth. When they're down to their underwear he sits on the bed against the headboard and she straddles his lap, the soft sounds of classical piano playing from her phone. They talk about all sorts of things in between lingering kisses, relishing this quiet time together, not knowing when they'll have it again. Olivia thought her body was already satiated by their earlier rounds of lovemaking but heat is gradually building in her core, coaxed by his gentle hands and loving words. When he eventually takes off her bra and cups her breasts, massaging them, sucking her nipples into hard peaks, desire floods her from head to toe.

In days gone by she would have ridden him like this but now they have to reposition, to make allowances for her growing bump. She's not complaining though, not really: especially when he ends up kneeling behind her, holding her upright with him; telling her to watch them in the mirror as they slowly move and then fall apart together. Hers is one of those orgasms which turns her legs to jelly, her brain to mush. She doesn't even go to clean up, just pulls on her panties and snuggles down under the covers, already halfway to sleep.

Fitz cuddles her once he's finished in the bathroom and turned out the light. He kisses her shoulder and briefly rolls her onto her back so he can say goodnight to her belly from him, Lila and Evie. "I love you," he murmurs, and she doesn't know who he's talking to, only that she can hear the tenderness in his voice and knows he is everything she will ever need.

He spoons her again, completely enveloping her, and it's her most favorite place in the universe. "Livvie?" he asks quietly, wondering if she's already asleep.

She manages to make a noise, to let him know she's not - although she's very close.

"I thought of a song to sing for you. You'll like it, I promise. Are you ready?"

"Mm hmm."

" _Well it's a marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…_ "

And she knows every night of her life with him will be as marvelous as all the ones that have come before - if not more so.

* * *

 **TBC**


End file.
